


Everybody Loves Somebody (Sometime)

by oldfritz



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldfritz/pseuds/oldfritz
Summary: Finding yourself in the streets of Rome, Italy sounds romantic. Until you remember you're here for college, or remember that the men in your family have seen horrors you could never comprehend, or remember that you're queer. Ludwig Bielschmidt and Feliciano Vargas were only boys as the second world war raged and are now young men, navigating the complications of post-war Europe. At least they have each other.At least they have each other.
Relationships: Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Rome (Hetalia)/Original Character(s), Turkey (Hetalia)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

Feliciano was only seven when Italy entered the second world war, but there was tension throughout those early years, too. He didn’t know much of it, his parents tried awfully hard to shield him and his brothers from the nonsense of the war. He had a father and a brother much, much older than him but he didn’t see either for a very long time. He remembers his mother reading him and his twin, Lovino, letters from the two men and telling them stories but he hardly remembered the two. But, he remembered enough to know that after the war ended things were not at all the same.

At nineteen, Feliciano was enrolled in a university. His father was elderly, but his oldest brother and mother encouraged him and his brother. Both of which enrolled in wonderful universities; Lovino into a culinary school and Feliciano into an art school. They didn’t even need to leave Rome, as the city was bustling with art and food. Across their villa, there were Feliciano’s paintings. Hung in the house, laying in the yard, there was always the smell of poppy oil as Feliciano’s favorite medium was oil paint. His father had been an art student as well, so pursuing art was an easy guess for him.

Ludwig also had a brother, a whole thirteen years older than him. They were lucky for a while, Gilbert was nineteen when Germany went to war so when their father left, Ludwig wasn’t all alone. Gilbert was lucky to be blinder than a bat, the army didn’t want him until they were desperate for men. Ludwig was sent to live with grandparents, those short few years, and was confused when only his brother came back. Things weren’t the same for their family, or for Germany, for a long, long time.

Now, Ludwig was nineteen himself. The year was 1952 and he was doing what any boy his age does: Studying. Gilbert had postponed University to care for him, so now he feels it is his duty to pursue higher education. Gilbert was proud, that was what Ludwig cared for. School wasn’t fun for Ludwig, but he also didn’t hate it. He enjoyed the structure of things, he always has. As a boy, he admired the soldiers, crisp and pristine. Orderly, nothing out of place. Maybe that’s why now, as a man, he works with machines. His first love has  _ always  _ been a machine, a broken clock in the attic. He tinkered with it for days until it worked again, it sits in his apartment now. A memory of home, for he was  _ far  _ from home. 

He was currently living in Rome, no particular reason. Perhaps the history drew him in, or maybe Berlin tired him. Whatever the reason, he was happy, except that he knew very little Italian. Not a smart decision! Moving to Italy and only knowing how to read and write! Regardless, he managed to live. When shopping, he would speak English or write things down on a notepad, in school he could read and besides, handwork requires less mouth. He knew a few other German students, so he became acquaintances with them and worked odd jobs. His life in Rome was simple until he ran into someone.

“Oh goodness!” said the man Ludwig had barrelled into. The streets were jam-packed, so bumping into someone was natural, but the two men were sitting on the floor. Ludwig’s groceries and book bags were scattered and the two rushed to pick things up.

“Scusa, scusa,” Ludwig apologized, “Ah…,” he realized he didn’t know how to say  _ I didn’t mean to _ in Italian.

“Va bene!” The man said while picking up Ludwig’s groceries and books, he caught the name of Ludwig’s university, “ Oh, le nostre scuole sono una accanto all'altra!” Ludwig stared for a moment and grimaced. He had no clue what was just told to him, he recognized a few words but not the sentence. The man seemed to notice and, while handing him his things, said, “Lei parla Inglese?” Now, that was something Ludwig understood.

“Yes! I do,” Ludwig said, “Thank you, I’m sorry my Italian is not great,” he stood up and quickly began filling up his bags.

“But you live in Rome, of all places,” the other man pointed out, also standing up.

“Yes well…,” Ludwig frowned, “What did you say earlier?”

“I said our schools are next to each other, just a few blocks away,” the man held his hand out, “My name is Feliciano, and your name is?” Ludwig stared for a moment, holding onto his bags.

“Ludwig,” he shook the other man, Feliciano’s, hand.

“A pleasure,” Feliciano smiled, “Since you’re not from here, I should show you around.” Ludwig began to protest but was interrupted, “I knocked you down, it is the very least I can do,” he began walking, encouraging Ludwig to follow him. Ludwig had nothing to do, and to be honest, he could really use a tour, so he followed.

The German was shown a dozen of shops and cafes, with comments added onto them. Things like  _ This one has the cutest cats laying outside!  _ Or  _ Eat their focaccia, it’s wonderful  _ Ludwig felt like the very intimacies of the city were being opened to him. He kept quiet as they walked, for he felt no need to comment, and Feliciano chatted away. Eventually, they found themselves at a cafe, and Feliciano began to ask him about his own hometown.

“Oh, Berlin? It’s beautiful, there was this bookstore I liked. The owner was a family friend,” Ludwig took a sip of his coffee.

“Oh, anything else?” Feliciano asked, prodding him for more.

“Uhm…,” Ludwig thought, “Oh, the autobahn was  _ fun _ ,” Ludwig laughed a bit, “When my brother was teaching me to drive, he was terrified.” He saw that the sun was beginning to set, “Ah, Feliciano. It’s getting late,” Feliciano looked towards the sky, and then his wristwatch.

“It’s not too late,” he took another bite of his chocolate dessert, “I could show you the nightlife, though my mother might scold me…,” he muttered that last part. Ludwig shook his head.

“Oh no, I have classes tomorrow and I need to put away my groceries and I wouldn’t want to bother you,” he spoke quickly, anxious. Feliciano nodded.

“I will walk you home then.”

They walked quietly to Ludwig’s apartment complex, the heat settling comfortably around them. Feliciano kept up the conversation, and Ludwig added with small  _ hm _ s or  _ oh?  _ When they arrived in front of the building, they shared goodbyes.

“Thank you for showing me around,” Ludwig said.

“Oh, I would do it again in a heartbeat!” Feliciano chuckled a bit, “You know, Ludwig, I can teach you Italian.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely, if you teach me German,” Feliciano held out his hand, “Deal?” Ludwig took it excitedly.

“Deal.”

“We can meet for lunch at three tomorrow, my classes will be over by then,” the pair were happy with the arrangement, and spent a few more minutes sharing goodbyes before Feliciano left for home and Ludwig was standing outside his apartment complex. He smiled a bit, looking forward to the language lessons and a new friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Feliciano was met with jazz playing from a radio when he came home, smells of food filled the air and he could hear singing that wasn’t just from the radio. When he heard singing, he knew his father was having a good day. When he walked in he saw his father and mother dancing in the living room, his father’s strong voice carried across the house. His mother saw him and smiled, happy to see her baby boy. Feliciano took off his shoes and walked into the living room, joining his parents, he could hear clattering in the kitchen and knew his brothers were butting heads. That also meant his oldest brother was having a good day. They called it shellshock, there were times when the two men just weren’t all there. But, on nice nights like these, his family was all on Earth and things were just as they were before the war.

“You seem awfully happy, Tesoro,” his father pointed out, “You met a girl!” his father’s eyes wrinkled when he smiled and his voice was loud and full.

“Oh no, Papa, just made a friend,” Feliciano looked just like his father, according to his father, though his hair was lighter and his eyes brown, every feature matched. His twin brother matched their father’s twin brother, but they had never met their uncle. Feliciano walked into the kitchen to see his brothers, the eldest still in his work clothes sitting on the counter and his twin standing at the stove, cooking.

“You didn’t meet me at the store, what happened?” His brother, Constantin, asked. Feliciano shrugged.

“I met up with a friend, I’m sorry,” Feliciano peeked behind Lovino’s shoulder, “Oh, chicken!” Lovino nodded.

“Caprese,” he said simply, “Constantin put in a request, and since he bought the groceries I couldn’t deny it.” Constantin grinned.

“A friend is coming over,” he explained.

“You have friends?” Lovino joked, Constantin punched his shoulder.

“I have  _ many _ friends, that  _ aren’t  _ my brother’s relatives because  _ I  _ leave the house!” Constantin was their half brother, from their father’s first marriage. He had four other half brothers, who the twins were quite close to. Feliciano watched his brothers squabble, which they often do, both so much like their father, it was easy to understand. All three stubborn as mules. Feliciano dipped his pinky in the pan, picking up a bit of spiced vinegar.

“Feli!” His brother scolded.

“Be lucky I’m not spoiling my appetite,” he smiled as he placed the finger in his mouth. Lovino rolled his eyes, too tired to deal with his twin’s annoyance. Constantin slid off the counter and began walking to the living room.

“I’m going to get ready,” he announced, walking past their parents and into the bedroom hallway. The twins gave each other a look, and then peeked into the living room, where their parents were, and shared the same look.

“They’re not just friends,” their mother concluded. The other three nodded in agreement.

After a very awkward dinner, where Constantin stared at his “friend” for an hour, Feliciano went outside into his studio. He was shirtless and had on loose raggedy pants, as paint got everywhere. His mother had warned him not to stay up too late, and he promised he wouldn’t but when in the moment, time flies by. His latest painting was for a class, it was the shopping district of Rome. Merely a sketch, he stared and wondered what else could be added before he began to paint, his reference was a picture of his father, before the wars, when he was Feliciano’s age. 1912, Italy was in the middle of a war with Turkey but his father was an art student, a singer. The picture was taken by his mystery uncle, Feliciano was always curious about the man. Back to the sketch, he stared for a minute. He considered drawing his father, but that seemed too easy. Besides, the assignment was to make a portrait of his own, not base it off of something else. His uncle, perhaps? He knows his father has pictures, but his father’s brother seems to be a touchy subject. He frowned and groaned, confused about what to add. He was brought out of his headspace by giggling, he looked outside his studio and saw his older brother and the “friend” flirting.

“Your eyes  _ are  _ like sapphires, but that’s corny isn’t it?” The friend,  Sadık, said.

“Oh, no! Not at all,” Constantin replied. It was strange to Feliciano, to see his older brother (who really was more of a father, the man was thirty-six) flirt like a schoolboy. He cringed a bit and tried to go back to his work, but their flirting was becoming annoying. He was also nosy. So he watched.

“Sadık, I’ve never felt something like this.”

“Neither have I,” Feliciano was glad to know the family’s assumption was right but was also very protective of his brother, so he walked out of his studio to interrupt.

“Oh, good evening!” He said cheerfully, Constantin and Sadık jumped away from each other. The three stood with the faint glow of a porch light illuminating them, Feliciano was smug while Constantin and Sadık looked anxious.

“It’s a bit late, isn’t it, Junior?” Constantin said. The nickname Junior comes from the fact that Feliciano was  _ almost _ named Romulus, after their father. Feliciano shrugged.

“I was in my studio, what are you two doing?” He could see the men’s gears turning, trying to come up with an explanation. 

“Nothing, Feli, you should get to bed,” Constantin instructed.

“But-”

“Now.” Feliciano huffed but listened. He walked back into the house and treaded carefully to his bedroom. His mind drifted back to his uncle, the one he never met, the one his own twin looks like. He doesn’t know why his father hates him so much, why there are pictures with someone’s face scratched out. Well, there was  _ one  _ where the face was clear. 1934, Constantin’s first birthday, his father, Romulus, his uncle, Remus, and Constantin’s mother, Helen, all stood surrounding the baby boy. Constantin had it in his bedroom drawer and had shown Feliciano and Lovino it once or twice. It was their secret because Romulus had no clue Constantin kept it. A keepsake, Constantin said, of a time gone by.

Feliciano wished he knew of that time.


End file.
